Three Simple Words
by doctorkaitlyn
Summary: Glenn will always remember October 15th as the best day of his life.  Daryl/Glenn, established relationship.


**Author's Note: **Just one of those ideas that popped into my head and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. I hope all you lovely readers enjoy it, and I'm hoping to do a companion fic of sorts sometime in the future. Until then, R&R would be lovely. xo.

**Three Simple Words.**

Glenn doesn't think he'll ever forget the day of October 15th; or, at least, he'll never forget the day that he _thinks _is October 15th. Since the world went belly-up, he's been trying his best to keep track of the days but there's been those times where he just plain forgets or he's too exhausted to calculate how long it's been since the first reports of walkers started coming out. So in the back of his mind, he knows that his math is probably off by a couple of days but really, the _date _isn't the important thing; rather, it's what happened on the date that matters.

Firstly, him and Daryl somehow made it through yet another near-death experience. They'd been scouting on the outskirts of Atlanta, looking for some more food and they _might _have been paying a little too much attention to each other, focusing more on discreetly running their fingers up the other's wrist and relishing in the shivers the action caused. Glenn was trying not to get too distracted, trying to keep his eyes and ears open for any sign of walkers, but that was easier said than done when you were around Daryl Dixon, who demanded attention without saying a word at all.

All it took was one second. For one second, Glenn stopped listening and that was all the time it took for a walker to lurch out from the side of a building and close its rotting hand around his wrist, yanking his arm up towards his mouth. He hadn't been able to stop the scream that had come out of his mouth as he desperately tried to pull away, ineffectively flailing with his baseball bat.

Daryl, of course, stepped up and shot the thing through the eye, splattering blood and what might have been rotted brain all over the ground. Glenn yanked away, feeling his stomach lurching, but he had no time to throw up. His scream (damn it, why did he have to _scream?)_ seemed to have alerted every walker in the general vicinity and they were quickly becoming surrounded as they streamed out of buildings and alleys, each of them moaning.

Glenn could hear his heart pounding in his ears as he ran, nearly blocking out the sound of his sneakers hitting the hardtop. He'd already progressed past the point of thinking; he was running on automatic, swinging at anything that moved, keeping close to Daryl, watching his back. He was vaguely aware that the end of his baseball bat had cracked and was sending splinters flying through the air but he wasn't going to drop it until absolutely necessary.

Somehow, they made it, reaching Daryl's pickup with the walkers still hot on their heels, their undead fingers brushing at their backs. Daryl was already driving before Glenn had his door entirely shut, plowing down what used to be a woman as they hightailed it towards the freeway. Even once they'd reached the safety of the road, Daryl kept going, gas pedal pressed to the floor. Glenn could still feel his heart thumping against his rib cage, his body still spiked with adrenaline, breath coming out in gasps.

It wasn't until they reached the turn off for the quarry that Daryl pulled over and turned off the truck, leaning his forehead against the steering wheel. The cabin was filled with the sound of their laboured breathing, intermingled with birdsong from the outside. Glenn leaned his head back against the seat, shutting his eyes and just letting his body relax.

He wasn't surprised when he started to chuckle nervously, as if someone was going to poke their head in and tell him that it wasn't appropriate to laugh after nearly dying. But that was just it; it _was _appropriate for him. The sheer ludicrousness of the situation deserved to be laughed at because seriously, six months ago, if someone had told him that the world was going to turn into a zombie movie, he would have told them to screw off.

After a few moments, Daryl started to laugh as well, sending shivers down Glenn's spine. Daryl's laugh was truly something to hear, deep and slightly scratchy and oddly arousing. One of his hands wrapped around Glenn's wrist and tugged him across the seat to lean against him. Still laughing, Glenn did just that, letting his head drop onto Daryl's shoulder, sighing contently in between his still continuing giggles. Daryl returned the noise, nudging Glenn's baseball hat off of his head before pressing his face into his hair, warm breath running over Glenn's skin. He lived for the moments when Daryl showed affection towards him, when he let his walls down long enough to just _be._

"Christ, you know I love you, right?"

Even though he was no longer flooded with adrenaline, Glenn's heart started to race again as he realized what Daryl had muttered into his hair. The sudden rush of emotions that flooded through him made him feel distinctly like a teenage girl but truthfully, he didn't care. Daryl had said... well, he'd said _that. _Christ, what more could he ask for?

"I know," he said, pressing a kiss to the side of Daryl's neck. "I love you too."

By the time they got back to camp, despite the fact that their hands were linked together, they had retreated back into themselves, staying silent. That didn't mean that Glenn had stopped thinking about it, however; that much was obvious from the ridiculous grin he could feel plastered on his face.

So _this _was the feeling he'd missed out on as a teenager.

He tried to put it in the back of his mind, however, once he stepped out of the truck. There were other things to deal with and he had to answer a barrage of questions about what had happened and why they hadn't brought back any supplies. After that, it was right back into the work, cleaning and inventorying and helping with firewood. Indeed, it wasn't until that night, when he was lying in his tent, that he let himself think about the moment again.

_You know I love you, right?_

The words still ringing in his mind, he quickly calculated what he thought the date was and came up with October 15th; it wasn't a date that had ever had any particular significance in his life.

Until now, that was. He knew that as long as he lived (and God knew how long _that _would be), he was going to remember October 15th as the day Daryl Dixon told him that he loved him.

He was going to remember October 15th as the best day of his life.


End file.
